Widdershins
by Onkoona
Summary: To say that Severus had a bad life would have been an exaggeration, but saying it was a good one would have been untrue. Severus himself didn't bother to view the world, and his place in it, in terms of 'good' or 'bad' anymore. If he had done, he would likely not be sane by this point. A Sev/Harry romance. (Soft Yaoi, EWE)


_Harry Potter_ _et all belongs to their makers, I'm just borrowing them for a bit of fun._

**Widdershins**_**  
**_

To say that Severus had a bad life would have been an exaggeration, but saying it was a good one would have been untrue. Severus himself didn't bother to view the world, and his place in it, in terms of 'good' or 'bad' anymore. If he had done, he would likely not be sane by this point. So, no, he made a point of not thinking at all and just getting on with it. And, as I said, it can't, in all honesty, be called a bad life.

Severus Snape, formally a professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, now an inmate of the Wizarding penal system, lived in a small cottage on the edge of a copse in Cornwall. He lived there by the grace of one Harry Potter, who persuaded the Wizengamot (with some force) to commute Severus' 25-year sentence to as many years' house arrest. Potter had also ended up providing the house, since the Snape residence had been plundered and burned down even before Severus' trial had started. The trial itself was stopped from becoming an outright lynching by that selfsame Potter and his young friends. Not that Severus got to know much about that, since he hadn't been allowed to attend his own trial. No, as far as Severus was concerned, he'd gone straight from the secure wing of St Mungo's to the cottage in Cornwall.

And five years later, he was still there. But much had happened in that time, and one of the most surprising was that Potter had stuck around.

**HPHPHPHPHP**

At first Severus just assumed the boy wanted to know about his mother, and since there was now no more reason not to tell, not to mention the existence of the debt Severus now owed Potter, Severus indulged him in as many stories as his sore throat could stand, while sitting in his sickbed and having Potter lean in through the outside window (he wasn't going to let the blasted boy in, no matter how serious the debt).

But after all the stories had been recounted twice and some even three times, Potter still came 'round to the cottage's front window. At first Severus just broadly ignored him, but that didn't seem to scare the boy off. Then he started to snark at him, and Potter still came every day, just as he had from the start. Severus tried insults and shouting. And one time he even threw his only cauldron at the boy, which promptly rolled outside of the perimeter of where Severus could go, making his heart sink at his own stupidity in throwing the tools of his livelihood away. But when Potter then blithely retrieved the thing and handed it back through the open window and topped off the action by showing up with an extra cauldron the very next day, something in Severus gave and he stopped pushing Potter away.

And as the Indian summer gave way to a really wet Cornish autumn, Severus didn't resist overly much when Potter asked to come inside of the one-room cottage. Maybe it was at that point that the former professor decided that resisting was as effective as blowing against a gale, and over the harsh winter that followed he gave it up entirely. He just felt too old and tired. And too much without any purpose for living at all: safe to amuse a pushy Gryffindor, it seemed.

Now, you can say that Severus' mindset was not the right one for starting a relationship. And I think you'd be right, but then it wasn't Severus who started it, it was the other party involved: one Harry Potter, bona fide Hero and slayer of He-Who'll-Not-Be-Mentioned-Anymore. And Severus found himself unable and unwilling to resist; Harry's warmth was a balm to his chilled soul.

**HPHPHPHPHP**

Under the magical house arrest, Severus was not allowed newspapers, and all correspondence (not that he had any apart from that for the potions mail-order business) was vetted by the Auror Department (but not by Potter personally). So all information on the outside world he got from Potter, who wasn't in the least bit interested in politics, so had nothing useful to relay in that department. Now if Severus had been interested in Quidditch, he would have been well informed indeed! But having given up on so many things already, Severus found it easy to give up on politics, too; let them rot in their own self-created disasters. He had done his duty to Dumbledore and the Wizarding world and had ended up locked up as a criminal for his trouble.

So all that he knew of Potter and his friends he heard from Potter himself (and as such Severus took it all with a grain of salt). The "Golden Trio," it seemed, had joined the Auror Corps (which surprised Severus, as he had thought Granger would be smart enough to choose a less dangerous and better paying job) but within the year, Granger had become leader of the squad the other two were in (ah, that makes more sense; she will move up fast and get that safer job).

Potter told him he was very happy she was his boss. "She always had the smarts for it; more than me, that's for sure!" He always reported on what they did, saying that as Severus wasn't seeing anybody but Harry himself, there was no chance of a security breach. Severus didn't bother to contradict him there, because yes, he only saw Potter, but even if he would've had other visitors, he wouldn't have told them a word of what Potter told him. For one, Severus had no clue what the political climate out there was like; old friends could have turned into foes, old foes into active menaces, and he would have no clue. And (and he would not admit this to a soul living or dead), the talks between Potter and himself were just too precious to him to share with anybody else. No, those were his and would be jealously guarded.

Some of what Potter told him had Severus worried. It wasn't so much the content of Potter's daily life (being an Auror is the most dangerous job around, everybody knew that) but it was more the way the Gryffindor told his tales of near-death experiences: with much relish and not a hint of fear or even the tiniest concern at his narrow brushes with death.

As time passed, and their relationship moved to the bedroom, this happy-go-lucky attitude started to worry Severus more and more. After all, now that they were sleeping together, Severus was getting seriously emotionally invested in the continued good health and survival of the Auror corps' finest!

By that time, Harry spent every night at the cottage (except when he was on night duty), leaving for work every day after an early breakfast. And this regularity of behaviour gave Severus the opening he needed to safeguard what was now so precious to him.

With his slowly growing potions business (he was allowed to brew a large selection of light magic potions deemed safe by the Ministry and a few darker potions he was only allowed to brew for St Mungo's), he had all but one ingredient to brew the Felix Felicis potion. "Liquid luck," as it was also called, could be brewed in one of three ways. For the first two recipes, very rare and expensive ingredients were needed—none of which were on the light magic list, and only one of them was on the St Mungo's list—but those ingredients were carefully budgeted and checked against the result. No, he couldn't use those for any extracurricular potion-making without being found out.

So that left the third recipe, of which all but one ingredient was in Severus' free-to-use stores. The last ingredient he'd provide on his own. He knew the supply wouldn't be endless, but it would be well worth the trouble. After all, it stood to reason, Harry would find someone else soon, someone more suited to the young hero, and leave the cottage and Severus for good. Severus was sure he could manage to produce the ingredient needed until then. What happened after that would be out of his hands entirely, and he just refused to think of it.

And so for almost five years life settled into something he could live with, if not without some sacrifice. But any sacrifice on his part was worth it, to have even one more night spent with his Harry.

**HPHPHPHPHP**

That winter had been harsh and Severus had again succumbed to wizard flu. And this time he had been so sure Harry would leave him, so sure that the Luck potion would finally take the young man away to a better lover than a decrepit old potions master with failing health, and to a better place than a draughty old one-room cottage in the hind end of beyond. But no, every evening Harry would land his broom outside the door and burst in bringing groceries and a rabbit or a chicken or some other dead animal with him, along with a gust of frigid air. He'd then call out a greeting as he plunked the food on Severus' work table (the only table in the house), remove his Auror red cloak and hang it on the hook on the back of the door next to Severus' cloak and both their aprons. He would stop long enough by the bed to kiss Severus on his cheek, while he was still sick and not up to any strenuous exercise, before grabbing his cooking apron and proceeding to clean the catch of the day in preparation of becoming a stew; Harry was a king at making stews.

Usually Severus caught flu only once in the long winter season, and after a week's rest and another week spent indoors (no going out into the copse as usual, not that the garden needed tending so deep in winter), he'd be up and about at full throttle. But not this year. This year he had found himself unable to leave his bed for a full two weeks, and once he could get up he realized he'd not be able to go out until spring. But that was not what concerned him the most; his premade supply of Felix Felicis potion would be gone before he'd be well enough to make a new batch safely.

Severus had known from the start it could come to this; he'd have to prepare the ingredient pretty much the moment he could stand upright and walk to the potions cupboard and find the scalpel. So he steeled himself to do it the first chance he got, lest the opportunity be lost. Unsurprisingly, the procedure (and the wandless stasis spell that followed) landed him firmly back in bed for another two days, but he reasoned that if he could make the potion no later than three days after harvesting the ingredient, what with the stasis spell, it would still be fresh enough.

**HPHPHPHPHP**

Severus was in week two of his convalescence (he was being extra careful with his own health, considering Harry's well-being might be directly linked to it), when Harry didn't come home one evening. At first Severus was only mildly worried, because Harry could have been called for an unexpected night shift. In such cases there'd be an owl knocking on the window by nine o'clock; Severus had at least trained Harry that much. No, after that one row, in which Severus had stooped so low as to use emotional blackmail and the threat of withholding bedroom privileges on the Gryffindor (as threats of physical violence had had no effect at all), Harry had never been absent overnight without sending a message of some sort.

But nine o'clock came and went and no message arrived. By ten o'clock Severus found himself unable to stay seated and started pacing back and forth the width of the cottage's one-room interior. From the bed by the front window, skirting the table widdershins to the sink under the back window at the opposite side of the room, then back again widdershins, skirting the opposite side of the table back to the bed and then around again and again.

By eleven thirty he was physically and emotionally exhausted and he found himself only capable of sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs trembling with fatigue and his nerves numb with fear.

It was a nearly two o'clock when Severus heard the doorknob rattle, and as he painfully unfolded from his slump he saw a Harry-shaped silhouette enter the cottage and raise its hearth-fire illuminated hand and wave a bit sheepishly, as the words "Kinda late, sorry," floated towards him. Severus ended up straining his anxiety cramped muscles by throwing their shared pillow at the Boy Hero's head as hard as he could.

**HPHPHPHPHP**

The next day Harry apologized (quite sweetly, at some length, and satisfyingly horizontally), and so Severus let it slide, knowing full well their time together would run out at some point and being very unwilling to hasten the process by starting another argument. He even allowed Harry to fuss over him and be his unhelpful self about the house the rest of the day, since Harry had announced he had been given the Sunday off.

Severus, who had been under house arrest for five years now, had lost track of weekdays and weekends; to him all days were the same. The fact that Harry had variable work days didn't help much either, so Harry would often just announce he'd have next day off the night before. Severus enjoyed such days, as it meant extra horizontal action, which, though he was loath to admit it, he enjoyed very much indeed.

Of course, at such sort notice Severus could not clear his potions-making schedule (though he always made sure Harry wouldn't accidentally stumble on a stage of the Felix Felicis potion, not that the boy would have recognized it for what it was, but the ever-cautious potions master wasn't about to take the risk), so on these at-home days Harry would be conscripted to cut and clean ingredients for whatever Severus was brewing. Severus remarked to himself that over the last five years the Gryffindor had gotten better at it and now was a passably good potions assistant. And then he gave the boy a big bowl of slimy skunk turnips to clean and dice, "Exactly 5/8th of an inch-sized dice please," handing him the ruler.

**HPHPHPHPHP**

Some days later, Severus was busy making the base potion for an anti-inflammatory ointment destined for St Mungo's, when he heard the telltale crunching of gravel that indicated someone was coming up the path towards his door. He knew it couldn't be Harry, as the boy always landed his broom right outside the door, so he extinguished the heat under his smaller cauldron, turned down the heat under the bigger, wiped his hands on his apron, took it off and hung it on its hook at the back of the door before turning to the window above his bed, leaning on one knee on the bed so he could look out better. (Severus had asked Harry to put a permanent magic shield spell on that side of the house, so he wasn't worried he'd get hexed when he looked out of the window or opened the door. There was also a non-entry-to-strangers spell on the threshold that would keep out unwanted intruders. The other three sides of the cottage faced the garden and the copse, which were protected with more shield charms, Muggle repellent charms and anything else Harry and Severus had come up with between them, as well as the house-arrest spell the Ministry had cast. Basically it was no one in, no one out, with the exception of Harry.)

When Severus looked out of the window, he couldn't have been more surprised at the figure coming up the lane. The winter wind pulled at Granger's Auror robes, but she didn't let it break her sure stride. If this had been any other visitor, with the possible exception of McGonagall, Severus would just have closed the window's shutters and would have refused to open the door, just ignoring the visitor until they'd gone away (at the beginning of his house arrest some reporters and other busybodies had tried to get to see him, so he had the drill down pat).

But Granger was one of Harry's closest friends, and moreover, Severus, however unwilling, owed her his life, for she was the one who had kept him alive by magic until he could be taken to St Mungo's at the end of the Battle of Hogwarts. For those two reasons he opened the door after she had knocked and motioned her inside. He closed the door behind her, indicated the closest of the two chairs that sat at the table, inviting her to sit down with just the tone of his voice as he said her name.

"Miss Granger." With that he turned to the teapot that sat in its cradle in a corner of the kitchen counter; he retrieved a second cup, filled it with the marigold liquorice root infusion he had been drinking all day. Really it was a cold remedy, but had a passable taste as an herbal tea. The trick was to add only one part liquorice root to five parts marigold and then let it sit for a full fifteen minutes before...

"Professor," came from behind him and, having his train of thought effectively broken, he turned around and held out the cup - which she took without hesitation, he was pleased to note, stupid move but appreciated - and then sat down himself, wrapping his hands around his own cup that already stood on the table.

"What can I do for you, Miss Granger?" Severus was annoyed to note that the question came out more tired-sounding than he had wanted to let on. Always operate from a position of strength, even if it's feigned.

The look Granger gave him was one of suspicion, intensifying the perpetually annoyed look she had worn for most of the time he had known her. He noted that she placed the cup on the table without having sipped the drink - not so stupid after all, but still amateurish; he could have poisoned the outside of the cup with a venom that absorbs through the skin - before she spoke.

"Where did you get the ingredients from?" Her voice was hard, radiating coldly suppressed anger. Thrust and parry.

"I know not of what you speak," he said, sitting back in his chair seemingly innocently at ease.

"For the Felix Felicis," the Auror captain clarified, folding her hands over her chest in an impatient gesture. (Severus wasn't at the right angle to see if her left foot was tapping, but he really didn't need to verify it, her face said it all).

It was a hit right to the target. Now it was up to Severus to decide to try to wiggle out from under or to concede. He was just in the middle of his inner dialogue on strategies and consequences of those strategies when Granger spoke again, startling him out of his thoughts abruptly. How had he become so slow? This was not good; he'd have been dead in a moment if he'd been facing a real foe! And to make matters worse, he'd missed what she had said, forcing him to ask, "What?" What an abject embarrassment to Slytherin House!

"I said, what recipe did you use?" she said, her voice now propelling full anger, and only then did Severus realize she'd stood up, looming over him from across the table. He followed her form up until he saw her face again and replayed the question in his mind, _"What recipe did you use?"_ He looked down at the tabletop, where his cup stood among laid-out potions ingredients, and he decided not to answer. Granger wasn't stupid; the fact that she asked the question showed she knew the answer already.

"Are you out of your ever-loving mind?" she shouted. _Yes. Probably. And for a long time now_. But he didn't say it. What would be the point?

Granger sat back down with such a rough movement it startled Severus into looking up at her again. In the gloomy winter daylight that came though his meagre windows, she suddenly looked so sad.

"It's got to stop," she said, the phrase a command, but her tone was pleading. As if he could change Harry's reckless behaviour.

"How did you know?" he asked instead.

She sighed and said, "That his amygdala was damaged I found out just after the war. But Harry has always been crazy lucky and so I didn't get suspicious until some very unlikely things started to happen around him. At first I suspected some ancient artifacts that reputedly had belonged to Merlin of, I dunno, choosing Harry as the new Merlin, but the effect didn't diminish when the artifacts left our lives; in fact, it seemed to get worse. No, it was the new mandatory drug test that flushed it out. Bah, the Ministry's idea. I caught Harry's results before they could make it back to them; the Ministry thinks they got lost, but he'll have to take the test again and soon. So. It has got to stop."

Severus found he was having trouble following her little speech. He really had been out of touch too long, hadn't he? He rewound the words in his head and came to _"his amygdala was damaged."_

"What's an amygdala?" he found himself asking before he could stop himself.

"What? Oh... Oh! Uh, it's a part of the brain that controls the experience of fear, among others," came the stuttered response, after Granger had obviously realized her error of judgement of Severus' education. To the Wizarding world at large and its schooling system in particular, the brain is just the brain; it has no separate parts.

_"Controls the experience of fear"_: well, that explained a lot.

"He doesn't experience fear." Severus had meant to make it a question (with these Muggle things it is always best to be sure) but his voice and his mind seemed to be running flat.

"Yes," Granger confirmed. "We tried to stop Harry from becoming an Auror, because the doctors couldn't tell us how it would affect his life. When he wouldn't, Ron and I joined as well, so we could watch his back."

That explained a lot, but also not. Severus looked up at the girl's creased face and asked, "Does he know?"

"Yes," came the answer. _He knew. Harry knew and he didn't tell me._

After exchanging a glance, showing a humiliating pity in the Auror's eyes, at which Severus sneered (or at least he did so in thought), Granger continued.

"We tried to stop him taking on that dragon in Essex," (Severus remembered that, Harry had been covered in minor burns), "but he got lucky and we all escaped with our lives." Too right they did; that was the week Severus had first started putting Felix Felicis in Harry's pumpkin juice.

"So that's how you did it," Granger said, again startling the potions master, _you loose-lipped fool: 'Loose lips sink ships'!_

"I," he started. Why deny it. "Yes. And in the Butterbeer," he added, keeping his gaze firmly on the tabletop.

"I see you also noticed he likes to pour Butterbeer over his cereal, disgusting habit," Granger laughed.

The tension broken, they sat for a minute or so in silence, Severus sipping his tea and Granger patently not drinking it but playing with a corner of her bright red robes instead.

Severus knew what the next question would have to be and he dreaded the answer.

"So what happens now," he asked.

"Now, I go back to work," Granger said, while she got up from her chair; then she turned to the door, opened it and walked out, her robe flapping wildly in the wind before she closed the door behind her.

Shakily Severus got up as well and went over to the window above the bed. He found he was forced to sit on it, his legs were trembling so hard, but even seated he could see her move down the lane, a bright red spot receding in the black and white winterscape.

**HPHPHPHPHP**

The rest of the day Severus just sat on the edge of the bed. In his schedule for this day he had allocated time for three different potions and two salves, lest he fall behind with the mail orders. But now it all seemed so useless; what point was there in earning money for a life without Harry in it? For Granger's visit could have only one meaning: Harry was to be cut off from the Luck potion (and from Severus) and then, being damaged as he was (why didn't you tell me?), the very next mission the Boy Hero would go on would very likely be his last. _Stupid, stupid boy! And stupid me for falling for another Gryffindor_.

**HPHPHPHPHP**

But, dear reader, that is not how Severus' story ended. Oh, no. That evening, seven o'clock promptly, Severus was roused by the unmistakable sound of the gravel right outside of his front door being disturbed. Only that part of the gravel was heard, and that could mean only one thing—a broom touching down: Harry!

Harry had come back. Maybe just to say goodbye, but at least Severus would be able to see him one last time! He quickly got up from the bed's edge and on wobbly legs he made it to the front door, rounding the table widdershins, as he always did. He had his hand on the knob when he suddenly heard more gravel noises, all close to the front door. More people landing.

Severus swallowed but did not move back from the door. Not Harry, then. Most likely it was an arrest squad, come to take Severus to Azkaban to serve out his sentence, for breaking the rules of the house arrest. Brewing Felix Felicis was not illegal, but neither was it on the approved list, and Severus' use of wandless magic was right at the top of unacceptable behaviour for a person under long-term house arrest.

There was a knock on the door and Severus drew in a painful breath. _Nothing to be scared of. You knew the risks. You broke the rules. You are guilty as charged, about 1,500 times over. Now they will come and take you away. Try not to resist too much._ He twisted the knob and opened the door.

**HPHPHPHPHP**

And ended up with an armful of Harry Potter. Harry's red and Severus' black robes fluttered wildly as they tried to regain their balance. The twirling came to a stop when both of them hit the chair back and the side of the table, respectively. Once Severus could orient himself again, an arm still about Harry's waist and one of Harry's across his back, he looked back at the door. There in the dark night stood Hermione Granger, Auror captain, and Ron Weasley, Auror.

Both of them had their hands on their hips and Severus could just feel another lecture coming on. But he was wrong, because Granger pointed her gloved finger not at him but at Harry.

"Now, you stay put," she fired the first volley. She put her hand back on her hip and Severus could see Weasley give a firm nod and grunt at the end of her statement. But Granger had more to say.

"Harry, you are now officially on the disabled list, and a good thing, too, because the next stop would have been Azkaban, 'cause they don't deal well with brain damage and drug abuse in the Wizarding world," she orated on, causing Weasley's head to bob in agreement at every third word.

"Now, you've used up all the goodwill of the Ministry with your bull-in-a-china-shop attitude, and I know they'll never forgive you for forcing them to accept your marriage to Professor Snape here." _Hold on, what? Marriage? To me? When was this!_

Severus' jaw literally dropped and he looked over at his "husband," who just shrugged and smiled sheepishly while holding up his left hand, on which a wedding band reappeared from behind a glamour spell. Severus looked back at the other two; he must look quite the fool, but somehow it didn't matter. _Married, oh Merlin_.

That gloved finger came back up, now pointed at Severus, _oh dear_. "And you, you are to cease and desist making Liquid Luck and using your own blood to do it, you idiot; you could have killed yourself. Even if it proves beyond doubt that you sincerely love our Harry, or it would never have worked." _Oh no_. The potions master quickly dropped his gaze to the floor.

"Severus?" came from next to him. Severus bit his lip. Harry didn't sound angry, just surprised. But both Harry and Severus were prevented from talking, because Granger wasn't quite done yet.

"The both of ya." Severus looked back up at the two friends. "Since you are both obviously crazy and suicidal to boot, I, Auror Granger, am hereby putting you both under house-arrest for the foreseeable future: let's say, the next twenty years!" At this she drew her wand and she fired a spell at Harry. A spell Severus knew intimately, _Incarcerus Domi_, the house-arrest spell.

**HPHPHPHPHP**

And so life did change, and if you ask me, it was for the better. Now if you had asked Severus, he could have told you not to worry about good, better, or best; he knew what he had was something that really couldn't be expressed in superlatives, so he didn't bother to try: he spent all his energies living it, instead.

**-The End-**

This story was written for Secret Snarry Swap 2013, after this prompt:  
#52: _Removing the Horcrux from Harry resulted in damage to his amygdala. Consequently, he cannot feel fear. This makes him an amazing Auror but a terrible boyfriend/husband. _Prompted by roozetter  
Thanks Roo, it was fun to write!

**Don't forget to review!**


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